For whatever reason, viewers and reviewers alike seem to be under the misguided impression that a limited budget, a limited runtime and limited ambition significantly increases the difficulty of a project, but this simply isn't true. Contrary to popular opinion, placing limitations on the scope of a project allows development to proceed far more smoothly because the output is easier to control. Tsumiki is so well-paced and engaging because it can't afford to have empty time; every frame has to mean something because of the limited runtime. Tsumiki is as complex as it is because everything needs to fit the timeframe, but to keep things from getting messy, it can't have more than one or two central themes, which makes it very easy to expand on its core theme(s) both subtly and overtly. What makes Tsumiki no Ie powerful, however, is a product of the creator's skill in manipulating a theme that has the potential to speak to everyone.
Tsumiki's composition — particularly in regard to its unique artwork — possesses a certain nebulous quality that provokes a very wistful sense of nostalgia which morphs into disparate though similar feelings as the narrative continues. If there is one thing that Tsumiki excels in, it's atmosphere. The scratchiness in the artwork gives way to a sort of 'vintage' quality, and the soundtrack (but particularly the sound work) synergises perfectly with every frame — the sound of crashing waves, a door creaking open, or perhaps even the clink of a glass— amplifying the emotion in every scene even further. Tsumiki is highly engaging, excelling in making the perfectly mundane and uneventful beautiful and significant. It is a slow and graceful though somewhat desolate portrait of the end for one old man. Truly, Tsumiki is phenomenal at crafting the perfect atmosphere for the perfect moment. It's so good at this, in fact, that you are liable to forget just how formulaic it is in comparison to every other short that showcases a few nice, sappy moments from the past right after each other to keep building and building more emotion, ultimately culminating in one powerful moment. Even so, Tsumiki is undoubtedly the best of what must have become a genre of its own by this point, though that doesn't mean that it's perfect.
Tsumiki has no need of dialogue because its themes are universal; because everyone can understand, resonate with and relate to what it has to say. The older you get, the more it will resonate with you, but anybody will feel a twinge of emotion if they're in tune with it — and this is exactly my issue with it. In spite of the praises I have for its complexity, it seems to have thrown away a stronger sense of identity and a more entangled narrative for the sake of appealing to everybody. While the protagonist does have some identity, so much of it is made vague enough for any viewer to slip right into. Deliberately nameless and deliberately dialogueless, the only time he expresses much of his individuality is during some of his flashbacks and right at the climax. Even his flashbacks are average and typical enough for any viewer to picture themselves in his position.
To me, at least, this narrative isn't nearly personal enough for me to consider the protagonist interesting, endearing or empathetic. Rather than connecting to the characters, I find myself drifting toward the universal themes and disregarding the existence of these characters almost completely. The main reason for this seems to be a complete lack of conflict in the story. The old saying is, "conflict breeds character," and this is something that works against Tsumiki. Not only would the climax have had more impact and the overall narrative more depth, the characters had the potential to be multi-faceted — not to mention it would have made the ordeal feel far more authentic. Unfortunately, Tsumiki falls rather short in characterisation even though it does handle said characters' development competently.
What I find particularly endearing about this short is how it weaves subtlety and artful symbolism into its narrative, reinforcing its themes. It is necessary to remember that we are viewing everything from the perspective of the old man, with all of his own biases intact. "The House of Small Cubes" is a simple symbol with a variety of interpretations and implications, and it wasn't something I caught until the third watch. The beauty of this is that I can come back to the short in a different mindset every time and see something new each time, which speaks to just how much thought was put into its deceptively simple composition.
Tsumiki no Ie is one of the first shorts that everyone thinks of when they hear the words 'hidden gem', and with good reason. That said, I am of the opinion that Tsumiki no Ie could have had far more distinctive characters with more conflict thrown in. However, it is exemplary at what it does accomplish. Tsumiki may be lacking in originality, but it certainly isn't lacking in impact or resonance, and it provides a unique and more nuanced perspective of the same story we've seen plenty of times before. At a mere 12 minutes, I can confidently and enthusiastically recommend Tsumiki no Ie to everyone. If you have yet to watch it, Tsumiki no Ie should be the first thing on your list. "The House of Small Cubes" will stay with me for a long time, and I will continue to re-watch it every now and again in hopes of gaining some fresh perspective.
